The Best Quatorzain Poems

O' Salty tear, a mere clear drop that you are
You've emerged for a million different reasons
many of which only the shedder knows
for you've emerged in all seasons.
The season of sadness or reason of joy
the tears of grief and the tears of joy
You and your unalloyed saline taste
thou art' but an emotional waste.
O'Salty tear each time you drop into oblivion
why not vanish away with your shedder's grief?
I tell you O' tear if you're to take my opinion
oughtn't you grant your shedder full relief?
Ah but thou art' a ceaseless ocean in reserve and store
No one can be sure, he'll cry no more
When you trickle down those sad upturned lips
we know destiny perhaps made those painful slips!
You are the raindrops of a grief-clouded heart
You do emerge when two lovers have to part
Help your shedder turn over a new leaf
so you're associated less with grief.
I've watched many a jilted lover
weep all alone by the sea-side most sorrowfully
and watched tears glide down noses or pince-nez
as their salty tears merged into the salty sea.
O' Salty tear but it's time you learnt to wash away
all and any poignancy from your shedder's heart
and be such a buddy who never wishes to meet again
the tearful shedder from whom you depart!

(I'm
an
Indian
lassie,
was
born
in
West
Africa,
(Nigeria),
Grew
up
in
South
Africa
(Swaziland)
and
currently
live
in
East
Africa.
(Tanzania).
So
I
live
in
Daresalam,
near
the
Indian
Ocean.
I
might
be
like
any
other
expatriate,
desirous
of
their
homeland
Upon
my
country's
soil
fervently
wishing
to
stand.
I
can't
help
feeling
profusely
foreigner
in
this
highly
foreign
land
I'd
give
anything
to
go
back,
say
even
be
a
mariner
for
there's
an
ocean
to
cross
before
familiar
sand.
An
ocean
with
dear
motherland's
name
greets
me
all
the
way
here
with
tantalizing
lure
Tiring
me
of
nostalgia's
seemingly
endless
game
reminding
the
distance
between
the
shores
is
galore!
Everything
here
seems
just
too
alien
and
foreign
The
air
seems
foreign
punctuated
by
exotic
birds
In
this
land
I
still
feel
as
if
lost
in
some
warren
and
the
foreign
language
-
I'm
at
a
loss
for
words!
I
feel
estranged
and
disoriented,
struck
with
nostalgia
though
I
might
not
be
such
a
patriot
any
more
The
awaited
journey
to
India
from
Tanzania
to
reach
familiar
ground
of
lakhs
and
crore.
Ah,
the
welcoming
scenes
of
my
homeland
always
so
enticing
and
inviting
It
might
seem
surprising
that
for
me
she's
a
dreamland
but
a
desire
to
go
back,
since
ages
I've
been
fighting.
I'm
home-
sick,
waiting
so
long
to
be
back
home
There's
no
place
like
home-
sweet-
home
Here
I
feel
I've
lost
my
tracks
Like
a
homeless
wanderer
do
I
roam.
As
here
I
feel
no
less
like
a
Gulliver
on
his
travels
yet
to
rehabilitate
from
homesickness
might
take
a
lifetime
For now, I can merely
sing of motherland's
marvels
and wait soberly for fate
and destiny's chime.
But an underlying truth
here: I feel alienated
everywhere
as if I hailed from No-
man's-land
They think I neither
blend with the Indian
nor
the african
but hope they respect
my very individual brand.

A BRUSH OF ARS POETICARhythmic verses wherein death paints a picturesque of life
or life itself is written in lethargic-dying state:
a dusty stocked vocabulary still cuts like a knife
when done and re-phrased witty, nonparallel and ornate.
Like the azure fluffy clouds parading affront the sun,
its smiling hue of yellow-orange kisses sleeping hope--
softly flaming those frugal thoughts in grace and wonder stun,
remarkable enough to line dream stanzas ropes and slopes.
Strokes cast spells of rattles, rambles to erratic silence
allowing trembles to twang murmurs upon hardened hearts
same as magnet it attracts eyes and ears to your essence
because your speech ushers morals incubating fresh starts.
_______________________________________________________________
***Sponsor Thomas Martin
Contest Name Ars Poetica
++Placed 1st++
O.E. Guillermo
2:26 pm, March 06, 2015
***I define art of poetry as variations of light and dark, life and death, pale and vibrant, real and fiction... Writing poetry resurrects life even to a scene spelling disaster and death. Art of poetry embodies every angle aiming to touch the senses. Deep and superficial, all around breathing or not screams/is an art of poetry.

I've always admired
horses
and I guess I most surely
always will
No legend without em'
complete
The unsung heroes of
any heroic battle
Pony, colt, filly or mare
ride it bareback if you
dare
Ride them to a trot, ride
them to a canter
your beast of burden yet
be fair with the
horsewhip
Dön't think it cannot
throw you off
just coz' your feet are
secured in the stirrup
A horse is so handsome,
graceful and royal
Know you've harnessed
a stately, princely animal
Tis surely a conveyance
both regal and loyal
Hooves and horseshoes
have trodden paths since
times immemorial.
Whether twas the
magnificent Moghuls or
the mighty maharajas
tis horses who added to
their pomp and glamour
The knights, squires and
musketeers
all needed horses too for
any show of valour
I ardently admire the
noble appearance
of the silky maned
Arabian horse of
elegance
Described as a powerful
white beauty with
flowing manes and tails
To me a horse with
dashing, equine charisma
altogether of admirable
build and countenance
On these majestic yet
stalwart stallions
depended the victory
feats of most battalions
No victory or history
without horseback
power
The horse is indeed the
heroic champ of
champions
As for food feed it
fodder
Hallowed be the stables
for this fauna of the
fables
But be not harsh with
the halter
Stroke its mane or its
muzzle
The rider seated in its
saddle
And the rider goes a'
walloping
as the gelding goes a'
galloping.
Ah and there goes a
jockey in his jodhpurs
racing in a livery of
racing spurs
Thus a more flattering
sporting exercise is the
equestrian
esp if compared to the
jogging pedestrian
And then to have a look
at horsey hues
coats in shades of
mustard, magenta and
maroon
Feel that velvet touch of
nature's velveteen
Tis universally admired,
that glossy brown sheen
The bridle and the reins
on this regal being seem
quite ironic and unfit to
me
But it is indeed quite a
task to tame
that wild mustang hued
in deep mahogany
Famous heroic horses
that've ridden into the
present
from the anals of history
and I'll mention those
well-known to me
They're Al-Boraq, the
Zuljanah, the wooden
Trojan horse and the
Xanthus
Some real remarkable
horses, others more
legendary
They do deserve such
fabled epic and fuss
Horses are heroes no one
can deny
and while horsecarts
mightn't have units of
horsepower
but a foal shall grow into
a steed as time goes by
when it shall welcome on
its back the rider
Hearken em' horses
neigh, whinny snort or
nicker
Have been mounted both
by villains and hero riders
There riding on smooth
sandy dunes or even
coarse gorse
Clip clop go the hooves
of the heroic horse.

SECRETS
Breaking shackles of restraint
Is love the lost key?
Heart opened?
FADE TO GREY
I gave away tomorrow
So you have today?
This in lieu?
MECHANICAL RESPONSE
The clock on the wall ticks on
Yet my heart does not?
Sick of life?
Copyright 2014
Harry J Horsman 2014
For Dr Ram's Quinzaine contest.

Colours of rainbow
Clouds when veil the mighty sun,
Morning seems so dull and wet,
Rainy day can be much fun,
Joy that tiny drops beget,
Colourful umbs run on roads,
Footpath forgets carefree walk,
Evening croak of frogs and toads,
Resting calm of a skylark!
Scent of water freshens life,
Enjoying work isn't child's play,
Woe bygone and so is strife,
As if joys will ever stay!
Rainbow colours bring sunshine,
Vibrancy touches each mind!
Iambic heptameter
Written September 28th, 2014
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
Joined soup on May 16th, 2013
For contest 'Structured forms- Iambic verse II' by Giorgio A V
Now entered for " Million dollar poem #1- a PD contest " for contest by SKAT A
Awarded 4th place win

Wanderings of soul
Couldn't see the colour of the sky,
Nor the birds, their flight so high,
The greens were lost in twilight,
Didn't you see tears in my eyes ?
My stray soul that still wanders,
Passion swamps mind that ponders,
Parallel walk yet no greet,
Will the two banks ever meet ?
Vibrant dreams await fulfil,
Desires in heart deep instil,
Quell pain of eternity,
Do I live infinity ?
Till wrinkles on skin appear,
Emotions to mind will steer,
Till rainbow in sky will fade,
Can I beat my weary jade ?
Wanderings of soul will end,
Love if you could just pretend,
Your lie would be worth a price,
Can't you see tears in my eyes ?
Written December 7th, 2014
Iambic heptameter
For contest 'Iambic verse' by Giorgio A.V.
Now for PD's contest "Best poem of 2014 contest"
Awarded 10th place
Now entered for "Your best old poem contest" by Judy Konos
Awarded 1st place win
Entered for "Best love poem #4" poetry contest by SKAT A
Awarded 9th place win
Now entered for "Favourite" poetry contest by Casarah

Brows from the west wind, clinch and glint abreast.
Bracelet she wears,rocks rhythm to country's souls.
Her coloured oval Lips subtle the thought
That she braises when it comes to domestics.
Her subdue touch and crutch are her good sorts.
Echoes of the heart, the chance that chest should date
With no vowel vague; and apprehensive to many.
Lo and behold certified and satisfactory core.
When we she built up beauty with peace
Our hearts long for day by day to feel and see?
Despite giant writes and intact punchy speeches,
Yet her dumb and deaf jokers move no inch.
When will her peaceful procreations procreate peace?
When will are heterogeneous veins vaunt brotherhood?
When will her crowns suffice apartheid recurrences?
Or peace will dwell after the extinct of all her utterances?
~A.O~
Entered into: Gail Angel
Doyle's "Echoes of The Heart" Contest.

quatrozain
The year is nineteen hundred eighty-six,
the biggest action, music, plots play through.
Behold the crowds are raving, buying ticks!
Top Gun, the movie’s here and overdue.
While brave Tom Cruise, the hero, rims the sky,
it’s really only stuntmen on those planes.
And to be sure, a romance follows nigh -
the female fans expect that love will reign.
Parental guidance warns some shoddy talk,
which gives the picture young adult appeal.
The sexy scenes are clean as new white chalk;
a final song provides nostalgic feel.
The mix for Top Gun 2, as yet unknown -
they must incorporate a role for drones.
Reason A. Poteet
09 Oct 2014
iambic pentameter for Giorgio's Contest III

Today is a contemplative day.
Not a day of joy but of thought.
A wrestling of sorts within.
I hope to find some clarity.
What lies have I told to myself?
What have I chosen to believe?
Can there be escape from myself?
I hope that the answer is yes.
So I sit thinking of my days
Into which cup I'm pouring life
Is there time to hold something back
Or have the sands blown away
All the answers I thought I knew
Now they seem like a cosmic joke
Still there's a difference I can make
All I need is courage to change

I recall long ago seeing a picture of a soldier holding a child,
A small child of war and that image still breaks my heart;
Why can the wars around the world just stop and peace come,
And in every part of this world peaceful discussions prevail.
Oh, if all humans could just live in harmony and stop the wars,
This is what the world needs for you and me and everyone;
Peace is beautiful but it cannot be forced, it must be a choice,
The soldiers of war come home broken people unable to forget.
In my country of Canada our new Prime Minister has promised,
He will bring twenty-five thousand refugees in by year end;
Some say that is impossible but I pray that it does come true,
We cannot save all the victims of war but each one is a miracle.
I am just a girl with no power to change anything in reality,
But I have a voice and I say, make peace not war for the world.
_____________________________
October 25, 2015
Quatorzain
For the contest, Promote Peace Not War, sponsor, Silent One
Third Place

Is there something you want to tell me my love?
Because I have some things I need to say to you.
I thought we had forever that we would grow old,
Together, and be looking back on a wonderful life.
I am so angry with you and I want to yell at you.
Why did you not listen to me that cold snowy day?
But no, you just laughed at me and left in a storm,
I was still sleeping and the telephone was ringing.
Ringing and ringing and ringing then I answered.
Now I stand at your tomb and all we had is gone.
Your handsome face will haunt my every moment,
And I want you to tell me why you left that day.
Why did you choose to throw our life together away?
I am so angry with you and I love you so much.
___________________________
June 28, 2015
Quatorzain
Written by Broken Wings
For the contest, Is There Something You Want To Tell Me, sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place

Noah gathered the animals two of a kind,
But neglected the unicorn- it does not exist;
Except in legend and on a magical island,
And to go there- I just need to close my eyes.
Oh, it is a wild untamed emerald island,
Its shores caressed by whispering waves;
And within the thick forest dwells a unicorn,
A white horse with a large magical horn.
On this fantasy island he runs wild and free,
And in my wandering dreams, I visit him;
He is fierce- with great strength and beauty,
But for me he lays aside all fear and comes.
I speak softly, stroking his mane with love,
And all the night we ride under the moon.
_____________________________
June 7, 2016
Quatorzain
For the contest, Island of Fantasy
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Ninth Place

Perhaps, I might be blind at anytime,
The present, I know, I'd beaten the time.
Though then, I was down in the dumps
Now, I cocks an ear and eye at the pumps.
Now, I'm not living in cloud cuckoo land,
I behold facts in what is my hand.
Power shouldn't hold onto word-smith,
But should be based on the worldly-wise,
With the think-thank aides and not filth.
That 'll keep cries in check for the rise.
If you can't beat them, convince them
And not to turn your back like Satan.
Set the pace for those at the helm
And don't keep back plans as though isn't your clan.